


When Our Hands Fit

by GhostofFiction



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers!Christmas, Drunk!Bucky, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Handholding, Kissing, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, Sweet, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 05:10:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4378454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostofFiction/pseuds/GhostofFiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were always a perfect fit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Our Hands Fit

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhat inspired on a tweet from OTPBot on twitter. 
> 
> "Your OTP comparing hand sizes." 
> 
> They aren't really comparing in the story. But it's still cute as hell. 
> 
> Went through it again to fix small mistakes.

|Brooklyn|

 

Steve was resting down on his bed, the cold from outside making his lungs rattle again. But at least he was warm. Bucky and him decided to pile all the blankets they owned on one of the bed and sleep together. No one needed to know about their little arrangement. 

Tonight Bucky had told him he was going out dancing. Because God knew that the man couldn’t be hold up in the house for two weekends in a row. Steve wasn’t going to argue with him, tell him it was too cold, or that they needed the money on more important things than Bucky wasting it away on drinks for a pretty dame and something else for her… 

Shaking the thought away from his head, the skinny blond man curled on his side and hugged his own pillow, no need to think about that when he was already feeling pain all over his body. With a soft sigh, the sick boy promised himself some sleep, it was the best he could do right now. Sleep and forget about his miserable existence and the ache in his chest. 

He managed to fall asleep about 15 minutes before the door to their small apartment was opening and heavy footfalls resonated on the small place as someone walked inside. Only one person in the living room; clumsy. Bucky was home too early to be normal and he was obviously drunk by the way he was cursing and bumping against things on his way to the single bedroom with two beds. Steve didn’t dare move, or even speak. The man sounded actually angry as he mumbled to himself, something that Steve could not quite hear with the blankets covering him all the way up and pass his ears. 

“Damn you, Rogers.” Bucky Barnes groaned out as he kicked off his shoes, falling flat on his ass. The words made the blond shiver. Was Bucky going to kick him out of the bed? “Damn you and your pretty face, and sweet looking mouth. Your sparkling blue eyes… and your damn skinny body. Damn it all to hell” Quiet wasn’t the word to describe Barnes right now. 

Steve stayed stock still when he felt the man get in the bed right next to him, his cold chest to his warm back. Legs tugged right under his to suck up some of the warmth. The sudden cold made him shiver again and pull a whimper out his chest, but he didn’t said a word. “Shh, sweetheart. I’m sorry… I’m sorry. I’ll warm up in a second. Sleep, baby…" The tone changed to one of pure sugar. Bucky’s arm came around his waist to pull him closer to his chest, totally unaware that the smaller man was awake just like him, sober too, and very much enjoying the warmth, the attention, the fingers carding through his hair so softly. 

Until that hand took hold of his much smaller one. “Like a dame’s hand, Stevie.” Bucky would tease. The dark haired man pressed their palms together, flat against each other. Steve’s fingers were thinner and shorter; shorter than Bucky’s. It was perfect. 

“Look at that, Stevie… perfect little hand to hold onto mine.” The words were a slur in the night, one that made Steve Rogers curl closer to the man behind him. “Perfect fit”

 

|Some place in Germany| 

 

It was another HYDRA base that was swarming with agents. Guns blazing as it erupted into flames. Bright and hot. A sharp contrast to the snow and low temperatures of the night.  
Morita was guiding them along the woods that helped hide them from the agents that had survived the blast. He knew the away, and Captain Rogers trusted his men to keep them alive and get their sorry asses out of danger. 

“STEVE!” It was Bucky. Bucky who a second ago had been right behind him, five steps behind and now he was nowhere to be seen. “GUYS!” The Captain looked around and saw the deep cliff and the uneven edge from where Bucky had slipped off. His body was moving before his mind even register it, and soon he was stomach down on the cold snow, hand stretched out, fingers wrapping around Bucky’s wrist to haul him right back up. The rest of the Commandos were right next to them to help them back to safety. 

“Damn son, watch your step. How where we going to fetch you back up here if your sorry ass ended up all the way down?” Dugan said, laughing now that the adrenaline was slowing down. They all laughed and patted Bucky on the back, playfully shoved the man. Their manly way of telling him they were all glad he was still alive and with them.  
Later than night, when Steve was awake and taking the first watch, quiet steps approach him. Bucky was always silent now, barely even making noise whenever he was walking. Even when drunk out of his ass. His baby blue’s looked up just in time to see the brunette taking a seat next to him, in the snow. When was the last time they had only dirt under their boots? 

“How are you doing?” Sometimes they didn’t know how to speak to each other. With Barnes still angry at him for allowing the government to use him as an experiment and with Bucky never speaking about his time in the lab or in that chamber- Things were… different. 

“Alive and kickin’” He says, casual as he sucks in the cancer stick between his lips. 

“Next time you’re walking in front of me.” 

Bucky scoffs, irritated… and amused “I don’t need a babysitter, Rogers. I can take care of myself.” 

“Sure as hell I saw things different today.” And Steve’s voice is no longer teasing, nor light. Is… not angry. Just terribly scared. Steve Rogers was scared. 

The Sergeant didn’t bother with an answer to that. There was no need, not really. He just settled with his back against the root of the tree and placed his palm, cold and calloused, flat against Steve’s on the floor. This time, Bucky’s fingers were shorter than Steve’s… But it was still a perfect fit. 

 

|New York, 2015. Christmas| 

 

Steve was in no mood to celebrate Christmas. His birthday, back in July, went just like any other day and today didn’t have to be any damn different, even when it was Christmas. There was bitterness inside his chest when he looked out towards the city from where he was perched on his balcony, he could see the lights and the trees and hear the families laughing and the fucking carols that made him want to rip his hair out. 

Why were people so damn happy!? 

Why wasn’t he happy? 

He knew the reason why… That reason was inside his guest bedroom, silent as always, hiding away from the world, like he always did. Bu- (“Don’t call me Bucky! I am NOT Bucky!”) James had been living with him for the last 6 months and there was no change what so ever. “Towards you", a voice corrected inside his head, making him groan, making him grow frustrated. Steve saw progress every day, first it was just him walking out of the room and spending time on the living room. Then It was him starting to ask for small things, always to Sam when he was around. Then it was the food and how he learned to eat the things that made him feel good and leave aside the things that made him throw his guts out. With Nat and Barton, it was their training. With Bruce it was their quiet moments, with Thor it was the stories from his realm… Even with Tony Fucking Stark it was the arm. 

But with Steve, nothing. NOTHING. And it both hurt him and frustrated him to no end the fact that he could not do a thing to bring the man back. Not the Bucky from before the war, or even the one from the war, but something, anything. Steve could take anything…. 

So when the invitation came, Stark making a damn dinner for all of them (because apparently now The Avengers celebrated Christmas) Steve flat out told him: “No, Tony. Thank you.” The finality to his tone was enough for even Tony Stark, king of the annoying, to shut his mouth and not even try to insist. 

So here he was, looking out into the city and hating himself and the world.

But Steve Rogers should know better than to just believe Tony would take a no for an answer. Because in the blink of an eye, all The Avengers, including Sam Wilson were walking inside his apartment with bowls of food, trays of sweets, bottles of alcohol. Thor, all on his own, was placing a damn tree, decorated and all, into the far corner, right next to the window to the balcony. 

Tony was wearing a stupid red Santa Hat as he moved towards the kitchen with Pepper next to him. Nat and Clint were pouring drinks in any cup and glass they could find, laughing quietly to each other. Bruce was opening a tray of cookies and handing them around, kissing Betty Ross on the cheek, who was currently talking with Jane, Thor’s girlfriend. 

And Sam… Sam was walking towards him with a friendly smile and hands held out in the universal known gesture of “I mean no harm”, both Nat and Clint paying close attention to them. The Captain was… speechless.

“What the hell, Sam?” 

“We didn’t want you to spend Christmas alone, Steve. We all agreed that it wasn’t even healthy for you, or Bucky for that matter. Make it look a little more like home? We’re all friends now.” 

They were… and Steve had been too bitter to even remember that and push his own pain aside to think of them… of Bucky. “T-Thank you.” He finally said, after a long silence.  
“Alright! No tears on this party, Rogers. Come and eat all of you!” It was Tony’s input. “HEY! Metal Man! Come here and join us!” Buc- James, the Captain wanted to correct. His name was James, not Metal Man, but he bit his tongue and even smiled lightly when the door to the guest bedroom opened slowly.  
They had all warmed up to the ex-Sergeant, they all had their own little special moments with him and they knew when to give him space. Natasha smiled at James and spoke in a soft Russian, something that Steve could not understand as he too sat in one of the couches. Because it was a ridiculous small apartment to actually house all of them. But they managed. 

 

\--

 

After Bucky cleared his plate, and thanked them all quietly, he left for his room. No one even tried to stop him when he stood up and walked in that direction. 

All through dinner, Steve was stealing glances at him, even when he was trying to be not so obvious about it, the assassin knew he was watching. But for once it didn’t bother him to know that he was being the center of attention of the blond man. It wasn’t exactly nice to have him watching over him every few seconds either, but it could have been worse. 

In the last six months in this apartment, in this life, Bucky had worked slowly towards recovery. Getting to know the people around him. (“They are going to help me help you, Buck. No need to be afraid of them, alright?”) He had warmed up to all of them. In all different ways, of course, but he was feeling pretty… happy, yes. He was getting better and he had these people to thank him for it. 

With Steve Rogers was always more complicated than just jump into being the old man he knew; because he could never be that man again. And the frustration in his all too blue eyes made Bucky feel unsure, like he was still doing things wrong. 

The rest wasn’t expecting anything from him… 

…

And neither was Steve. It had taken him six months to actually know that. That the blond was only waiting for him to feel comfortable in his own skin again and take the lead on his life again. Be whoever he wanted to be, because Steve would love him no matter what he did or who he was. And Bucky felt stupid now, because he had been wasting so much time, partly, on trying to find something that would make Steve happy… when it had been there all along. 

Outside his room was a lot quieter now, the conversations were low and pacific. There was no sound of plates, or glasses, no more booming laughter from Thor or Russian curses from Nat. Only that light, pleasant post dinner satisfaction and companionship. He looked at the clock on the wall of his room and allowed his eyes to close. 

\--

When Bucky woke up again, it was early, time for presents. He knew. 

The voices were still there, maybe they all spend the night there, in the small apartment, with Steve and Bucky. They were speaking again, sleep still clinging to their voices and movements, Bucky noticed when he stepped out the room. 

There were presents. A lot of them in fact. And Pepper was handing them over after reading papers, and tags. They were all talking quietly… until they spotted him. The silence that fell in the room made him stop right on the doorway to the living room. His grey eyes were on Steve’s face, on his eyes and his lips. Bucky didn’t have shinny paper and a big bow to wrap his present, his present was…. Simpler. 

So ignoring the eyes that were still studying his every move, Bucky stepped forwards, slowly walking towards the Captain, who was currently sitting on the floor, by the tree. To Pepper’s left. Reaching him only took about 15 steps, and after that he kneeled slow, showing Steve that he was no there to attack him, or anyone else for that matter, but only to be close to Steve. Bucky (yes, his name was Bucky), took a deep breath and lifted his right hand; he needed to feel the flesh, the warmth, the skin, holding it in mid air, close to Steve, palm facing him. 

The confused look that crosses those blue eyes made his lips stretch in a tiny smile. Of course it would be weird, his gesture, but this was smart and it wouldn’t take him long to actually remember… 

Bucky remembered.

And like sunlight, there it was. The shocked expression took over those sharp angles and lips parted in a silent sound. Blue eyes filled with tear… of happiness. Steve knew, Steve knew what this meant. 

His own hand slowly rose to meet Bucky’s, palm warm and calloused from years of use on that shield, pressed flat on his own calloused one. And their eyes locked because there was no need to look at their joined hands. They knew, like they knew how to breathe, that Steve’s was a little bigger than his own, still, and that his own fingers were just a tad bit shorter… 

“Still a perfect fit.” Bucky whispered right before his lips touched Steve’s softly. There was a salty taste to the kiss (tears, the assassin noted), but it was nothing compared to the sweetness of the moment. 

 

|New year’s Eve, 2016| 

 

A lot had happened in a year. Bucky had been struggling with change and with acceptance. With forgiveness, both from the world and from himself. 

He was now working for Shield, going on missions (never alone) and being part of a Team that was actually doing something good for the world and not just an illusion. 

But all those thoughts left his mind when strong hands gripped his hips even tighter and pulled him closer. Making him gasps and clench around the hard shaft that was currently fucking in and out of him. Too close, so close! He was going to lose it too soon. 

“Steve! S-slow down. Not-“ 

“Not yet?” Steve chuckled lowly, barely a rush of air. “We’ve been at it for hours, sweetheart.” 

The insistent tug of his orgasm made him whimper under the bigger body. And the fact that the blunt head of Steve cock was nudging against his prostate on every in-thrust was maddening. Knowing he could not fight this any longer, Bucky pleaded. “Steve, come on, please-“ 

Steve knew exactly what he wanted, what he needed, because his left hand run up his arm until their fingers were lacing and holding tightly. It was white noise and bright lights when his orgasm hit him, right when his body was at its most vulnerable. And his moans, huffs and screams were accompanied with Steve’s own. The taller man orgasming only seconds after, leaving him deliciously filled and amazingly sated. 

Inside their bedroom, now curled around each other, tangled mess of arms and legs, they could hear the shouting and celebration on the top floor. Fireworks, courtesy of Tony Stark, illuminated the dark sky with blues, reds, yellows and greens. The lights illuminated them both. 

Steve was the one who placed his hand on Bucky’s, palms flat. It made the brunette smile. His hand just a little bit smaller than his boyfriend’s. “No quite like a dame’s hand.” No shit, Bucky thought. “But still smaller, to hold onto mine…” Bucky looked up at blue eyes and kissed him once, soft. “Always such a perfect fit.” Steve mumbled into their kiss. 

 

THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are nice :)


End file.
